Iris
by CooWings
Summary: They used to be the Dynamic Duo, but not anymore. With eight years passed, they meet each other again. Rukia's moved on, but Ichigo? Not quite.
1. Crossing Paths, Once Again

**Disclaimer:** I own basically nothing, only my name.

**Summary:** When Bleach gets drama and a whole lot of cut-scenes and all of the in-betweens. Nah, I suck at summaries.

**Author's notes:** AU. I'm not sure if I'd make this into canon IchiRuki material, but one thing I'm sure of is that this will be Ichigo-Rukia centric. Also, this is my first time posting a story here, please be gentle. I'd appreciate all pointers too, of course!

**Warning:** No lemon. I disgust myself trying to write some (major fail). I try to avoid any OOC-ness.

**Chapter One: Crossing Paths, Once Again**

He knew it was her the moment he saw her walking past crowds of both blue and white-collar workers walking hurriedly, each one eager to finish private matters of their own. Her eyes never left his, and for the next few seconds he stood perfectly still; their eyes locked on each other. It was almost as if he was waiting for her to come to him.

It didn't matter the distance, because he could never miss her presence. He wondered briefly whether it was a skill or a specialty specially tailored only for the Kuchiki, as everyone and everything else seemed to dissipate into speckles of insignificant white dust as her figure came larger into view. It had always been this way.

He noticed that she still looked the same as she did in their senior year; her amethyst orbs still shone with the same powerful intensity, her lips curled in a tentative smile, and her slender and tiny frame looked perfect clothed under that creamy silk dress she had on. Her dark, loose raven hair had grown past her shoulders, adding a much more feminine look to her appearance, and he imagined how soft they must feel. She wore elegant black wedges with ankle-straps, and a beautiful pearl necklace graced her slender, fair neck. As she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, he saw diamond-studded earrings on her lobes. The earrings were in the shape of a pair of sparkling crescent moons.

Truth be told, she looked nothing less than stunningly gorgeous. Ichigo suddenly found his throat dry. He almost stuttered as she greeted him. He made an attempt to turn away and hide himself, for what reason he does not know; but his slow movement made both ignoring and hiding impossible.

"Ichigo! What a surprise! I didn't think I'd get to meet you here, of all places!" she said warmly, her voice clearly that of enthusiasm. She held out her hand for a handshake. Ichigo gave her his hand, and they shook hands for a brief moment. At the contact of her small palm, Ichigo found himself remembering everything from the past. He tried to push the haunting thoughts from his mind as he continued to try to appear indifferent at this sudden and unplanned intercourse.

"Yeah, this is definitely a surprise, Rukia," he replied, almost choking on his own words. He couldn't deny to himself; even the mention of her name on his tongue felt terribly familiar and right. He sighed inwardly, and broke the contact. He smiled a faint smile at her, to which she returned a genuine, sincere warm smile. It used to be right then, but then things drifted apart. They were so perfect together, and everyone in school thought that if there was any pair to survive age and time itself; it would surely be them.

Ichigo took a deep breath, trying to collect himself. This was not _the _reunion that he had anticipated (wait, he was looking forward for a reunion?), so he shifted a little on his feet, trying to find ground. He scratched the back of his head unanimously.

"So, Rukia. How have you been?" he started, trying his best to sound casual. He didn't want him being earnest about her to show. But then he started to think that she had always been able to read him, when nobody else could. It would have been futile to try, but hey, what the heck; he supposed eight years of zero contact may have changed that bit even if only at the slightest.

"I thought you wouldn't ask," Rukia beamed, all smiles. She looked really happy.

"I'm doing great, although a little too busy at times," she continued quickly, when Ichigo didn't seem to humour her. She was apparently oblivious to whatever it is that he was thinking. Ichigo breathed in relief, he didn't mind if she was too distracted to notice; in fact he would have preferred her to be ignorant at this exact point of time.

"What about you?" she asked curiously, after looking him up and down in a conspicuous manner. Ichigo raised his eyebrow at her, demanding for an explanation for her behaviour; but Rukia dismissed his questioning glare. Ichigo coughed, and crossed his arms. Damn, she was still good at it.

"I'm doing fine, thank you very much midget," he answered finally. "And don't give me that weird look, you're acting weird," he added. Rukia only rolled her eyes. She briefly glanced at her platinum oval-shaped watch strapped to her left wrist. It looked as if she was expecting someone. Ichigo peered at her watch. She glanced at him. She found him bowing forward, extremely close to her side (eight years past didn't make her any taller unfortunately) as she looked at her watch. And he made no attempt whatsoever to excuse his manners, much less to offer an explanation.

"You could have _politely_ asked for the time, you know," Rukia stated matter-of-factly, one eyebrow raised. Ichigo scowled in return.

"I didn't want to ask for the time," he replied defiantly, arms crossed. He corrected his stature and looked down at her, half-squinting. It was one of those ways he looked at her when he felt that there was a need to emphasize their ridiculously obvious difference in height.

"Well I see you're still rude as ever, Kurosaki," she added, purposely pressing on the adjective to annoy him. Knowing this, he fought back an urge to laugh. Oh, how true of it, when people say that old habits die hard. He was just about to respond to her with another one of his many smart comebacks (oh, he'd been saving up plenty of them for her), when a strangely familiar voice interrupted their usual bickering.

"Why if it isn't Kurosaki Ichigo, son of the great doctor Kurosaki Isshin!" Ichigo clamped his mouth shut then, like an ape, _almost_ anyway and Rukia's eyes lit up at the sight of a tall man with broad shoulders and dark spiky hair. Ichigo turned his head to the direction of the voice, and was greeted with none other than a smiling Shiba Kaien. He wore a smart two piece suit which shows off a wealthy and presumably good life living off of a salary worth a dozen bungalows added together.

"Oh, Kaien. It's nice to meet you," Ichigo remarked, unenthusiastic, but he hid it well. He extended his right hand. Kaien took it gratefully, and they shook hands for a bit.

"Please, the pleasure's all mine, Kurosaki," Kaien added, flashing his toothy grin. Ichigo smiled back in return, although he felt a little disgusted inside. Kaien had always had that ability to make his stomach churn uneasily, despite his good intentions. He wondered for a second why he had never been able to be really close to this guy, even though they graduated from the same high school and university; and instead was able to be good friends with a certain red-haired baboon and a certain emotionless jerk that came out from nowhere. Before he could ponder any more, Kaien's gentle voice broke his reverie.

"Rukia, have you waited long?" Kaien turned his attention to the beautiful female standing next to him. Rukia looked up at him, and shook her head. She gave him a sweet smile.

"Don't worry, I just arrived here myself," she answered in an equally mellow tone. Ichigo swallowed hard at this intimate exchange, feeling a little queasy. He wanted to get away as fast as he could, but knew that that would be rude; and he especially didn't want Rukia to point that out _again _in the presence of Shiba Kaien, whom he'd learned (more like instantaneously) to dislike without any good reason. Seeing at how the talking was going to exclude him (painfully, too), Ichigo started to change the subject.

"Wow. I didn't know you guys were close. That's new," Ichigo started suddenly without thinking, and he mentally cursed at himself as he spoke. He imagined that he must have looked like an idiot. Kaien turned to look at him, and then turned to look at Rukia again. As if they were talking a secret language shared only between the two of them, Rukia smiled. Ichigo noticed the sudden rush of red creeping up on her cheeks as Kaien openly winked at her. He remembered when she'd blush because of him and his actions, and his heart ached unexpectedly. Absolutely oblivious to this, Kaien multiplied the aching five times stronger when he swiftly twined their hands together.

"You caught us, Ichigo," Kaien replied, and he chuckled as if he had just told the funniest joke in the world. He squeezed Rukia's hand before continuing, "It's not officially public yet though, so we'd hope you could help keep this a secret as well," he finished, glancing at Rukia who had gotten comfortably closer to his side.

"Yes, Ichigo. We haven't announced this yet, so you better not say anything to anyone," Rukia reminded him, half-warning, half-joking. Ichigo looked at her, and gave her a small but most sincere smile he could muster at the moment.

"As if, midget. I have more important things to do than go around telling everybody about you two," he answered casually, looking at both Rukia and Kaien, but allowing his gaze to linger longer at Rukia's beautiful face. Surprisingly, Rukia pouted at him, eyebrows drawn closely together. Ichigo raised his eyebrows. As if his response to her was automatic, his mouth opened and _it_ started to speak. For the shortest second, he forgot that Kaien was with them.

"What, you have any problems, midget?" he questioned, rolling his eyes.

"You! You strawberry-man, you . . ." Rukia was struggling to come up with an insult to throw at him (she'd done no insults since she was with Kaien), but found her effort futile when Kaien suddenly jabbed his calloused thumb on her forehead; specifically aiming for the space in between her eyes.

"Ow ow ow!" Rukia cried out, and she tried to jokingly avoid his pestering thumb. Ichigo stared at them. Normally, well following the old times; it would be him who would deliver that treatment to Rukia. And when Rukia demanded Ichigo the reason why for unceremoniously and disrespectfully jabbing her forehead, he'd always tell her that it was for de-wrinkling, adding that it was the traditional yet effective way he'd picked up from his crazy father. She would laugh, and then she would kick him in the shins, laughing evilly as she daintily skipped away.

"Sorry, Rukia. But you're wrinkling your forehead too much, so I thought this would help de-wrinkle it for a bit," Kaien replied softly as he chuckled. Rukia grabbed his thumb and jerked it away from her forehead, squeezing it. She cast an accusing look at the orange-haired man standing to her left.

"It's Ichigo's fault," she stated factually, her face painted with all of the sureness the world contained. It took Ichigo a few seconds to react.

"What? I'm not gonna be held responsible for you wrinkling three times faster than you age!" Ichigo exclaimed, grinning yet scowling at the same time. Ah, it felt like old times again, and he knew he was slipping too fast into the past.

"Oh really? Then you should try seeing your own face in the mirror for once!" barked Rukia, and she took a step closer to him, her face tilted upwards so that her purple orbs met his amber ones in a fiery match. Ichigo did the exact same thing, only to have his face directed downwards because she was just too short.

"I already checked, midget; and as far as I'm concerned, I am still very young," he retorted, still scowling. In truth, he was fighting the urge to smile. He definitely missed picking fights with her. It used to be the highlight of his every day years ago. Rukia was just about to outsmart him (she'd recalled a few of her insults tailored specially for him then), when an unexpected hand shielded her eyes. It was Kaien's.

"That's enough, you two," Kaien said solemnly, and for a while Ichigo thought they had gone and crossed the "old friends reunion" line. Rukia said nothing, but her gaze remained fixed on Kaien's large hand. Kaien inched closer to both of them, so they appear to be huddling before whispering in an exaggerated hushed tone:

"You two bickering are attracting too many attention and I'm not up for a run just yet."

Ichigo and Rukia both immediately turned to their left and right, only to find multiples of wide eyes and questioning looks as well as irritated glares to rain down upon them. They gulped. Who'd knew people would even bother with two perfectly normal people having a, well, almost normal conversation on a perfectly normal day? They smiled, a little embarrassed, and bowed their heads lightly as an apology for causing unwanted disturbance. Satisfied, the crowd of watchers and passers-by nodded, and walked away. Soon the floor was empty again, safe for workers hurrying by and the said trio.

Ichigo sighed. "That was your fault," he said gravely, casting a glazed look at her. Rukia rolled her eyes. "Was not," she answered, arms crossed tautly. Ichigo rolled his eyes and muttered incoherent words under his breath. She was still so adorably annoying after all these years. Secretly, he glanced at her from the corner of his eyes. She looked so much like how she did years before, so much like _his _Rukia. At this unwelcomed reminder of the past, Ichigo furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. He didn't want to be reminded of her used to being his anymore, so instead he quickly turned to Kaien. He was just about to speak when a loud, indiscriminating beeping noise sliced the air around them.

Instinctively, Kaien and Rukia turned their attention to the source of the noise. It was Ichigo's cell phone. He nodded lightly at them and asked to be excused, and walked a few steps away to answer the call. Rukia watched him as he swiftly took out his phone and politely answered the call. He looked so much like he did then; still very handsome, secretly charming but somehow different.

_'Maybe eight years have put him through a lot,'_ she thought. After a few brief minutes of nodding his head and telling the caller that he'd be right on his way, he returned.

"Whoa. You must be far busier than I'd ever imagined, Ichigo," Kaien remarked as he walked back towards them. Ichigo only nodded.

"Some guys from a competing company wants to propose a shared contract, y'know that sort of thing," he answered, careful not to let anything sensitive to and for the company to spill over. Kaien nodded, showing that he understood. Almost instantaneously, Kaien grinned, and he pretended to tiptoe towards the younger male.

As if telling the biggest secret ever, he turned sideways before leaning in towards Ichigo. "You should find," he paused, raising up one pinky finger dangerously close to Ichigo's face, "one of these," he finished, grinning. Ichigo's eyes widened, but only for a second. Rukia was quick enough to poke Kaien in the ribs.

"Stop that, Kaien. That's not very nice, Ichigo's a busy man," she said, eyebrows drawn close together. Ichigo sighed, smiled and shook his head. Kaien faked a hurtful expression, but Ichigo was quick and skilled enough to cut the lovey-dovey scene from playing on time. He didn't think that he could take another round of intimate exchange between them. No more for today.

"Too busy to even settle down with one, Kaien," Ichigo responded truthfully, grinning as well. Kaien caught up fast, and he nodded.

"Too much blueprints of buildings that needs taking care of, huh?"

"Yeah, probably."

Another beeping sound could be heard, this time a little more digital than the one before. It was Ichigo's pager. Ichigo took it out, clicked on a few buttons, huffed, scowled even more (if that was even remotely possible) and slipped it into his pants pocket again. He extended a hand; Rukia knew he had to leave. Had she not known him she would have told him to take off that unnerving scowl from his face. But she understood that it was heavy with urgency about a job, and so she said nothing.

"Gotta run, guys. It was nice meeting with you two."

Kaien and Rukia nodded in unison. Kaien took the pleasure to take his hand for a goodbye handshake.

"Same goes to you," Kaien replied with a smile. He winked suggestively at him, and Ichigo only shrugged.

"Take care, Ichigo," Rukia told him, smiling. Ichigo looked at her, and he nodded his head. Those violet orbs seemed so enchanting.

"Thanks, Rukia. You too. See you around, Kaien," Ichigo finished finally, and he nodded lightly before walking away. The duo stood in silence, as they watched the retreating back of one of the most successful Japan's architects of the century. Finally, Kaien turned to Rukia.

"Let's go, Rukia."

Rukia turned to look at him. She nodded. Their hands were still twined.

"Let's go," she agreed. But before she could even take a step further she was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace. Kaien's huge body felt warm against hers.

"Kaien?" she was not one to display public affection (but she was slowly learning to), unlike Kaien. He was never ashamed or guarded to show his love for her. He was different from Ichigo.

Kaien didn't reply, instead he gently tilted her head up and gave her a passionate kiss. Drawn in by his sudden passion, she returned his kiss, equally passionate; or perhaps a little bit more. They pulled away finally, each gasping for air.

"What's up?" she murmured. Kaien kissed her again on her lips before finally telling her.

"I just miss you. So much."

And butterflies flew about in her stomach.


	2. Her Dream, His Ambition

**Disclaimer:** I definitely don't own Bleach.

**Summary: **Why architecture became his life's profession.

**Author's notes:** AU, because I fail at writing swords clashing against each other. Ichigo-Rukia centric. _Italics_ and sentences aligned in the _middle_ are things in the past.

**Warning:** Slight OOC-ness (maybe?) of a certain emerald-eyed person. I try to avoid major OOC-ness.

**Chapter Two: Her Dream, His Ambition**

He glanced at his watch that was strapped on his left wrist, at the same time bringing his forearm upwards and his timepiece closer to his face. His watch was rectangular-shaped, with curves at the four edges where the sides connected. The surface was a clean, clear glass that made reading the time easy. It was 2:13PM, which meant that the meeting has already been underway for about almost fifteen minutes. Ichigo breathed deeply, acutely aware that a certain pineapple head would be shooting daggers his way the minute he stepped into the meeting room.

He reached the company's lobby finally, and was greeted by swarms of people clad in their business suits; waiting patiently for their lift up the building. It wasn't surprising. Lunch hour has just ended, and everybody was getting back to their respected tasks. Ichigo glanced wearily across the floor, occasionally looking at the faces of people he does not even know. They looked like they were burning in their jackets. Standing quietly next to him was a short, plump man whose head was half-balding with a small, burnt brown suitcase in one hand. He was sweating like his life depended on it.

Ichigo instinctively raised an eyebrow at this scenario, and gazed down to look at his own clothes. He had wore a plain but crisp buttoned-down men white shirt that day, obviously skipping the "tuck-in" practice; along with a vintage flat front pants that clung very nicely to his long legs, giving him an overall notable look. The saying that simplicity is more suited him indefinitely. He wondered momentarily why people even bother dressing up in suits, if they were only to gain pools of sweat in retrospect.

Deciding that how the others dress for work was the least of his problems, he shrugged. The short, plump man that stood next to him apparently didn't quite agree with his idea, as he openly sized Ichigo up and down; scrutinizing Ichigo's attire as if he was a distinguished fashionista (although that was certainly not the case). Ichigo paid him no attention, although he could see that the short man was clearly unimpressed. An electronic chime sliced through the air. It was the long-awaited signal by everyone on the floor.

"Excuse me, but are you done yet?" Ichigo began, as he barely glanced (this was done deliberately for effect) at the guy who was gawking at him. The short man, startled; took a step back carelessly on reflex, but soon regained composure as he wiped off the sweat of his naked forehead with a crumpled kerchief.

"You…what do you mean by that?" the short man stammered. His eyes had grown wide as China saucers. Ichigo shrugged his shoulders, as if telling the guy to just drop the act.

"Whatever, guy, I'm stealing a spot in the elevator," he said offhandedly, and Ichigo did just what he said. He strode to the one nearest to him, allowing a little squeeze against his frame from the other passengers in the cramped square space. He needed to get his ass to the meeting room as soon as possible. 

"Hmph, I was expecting a much fancier meeting room, not a stuffy one like this."

At this relatively rude and unwelcomed comment, Renji raised his rather impossible eyebrows. The busty secretary woman wearing what should be the most revealing business suit ever created on the planet paced around the office idly, clearly unimpressed. She absent-mindedly flicked the ends of her wavy golden locks as she continued to mutter incomprehensible words under her breath. Renji wondered if she ever knew how disturbingly annoying she looked doing that flicking of her hair.

"Matsumoto, mind your tongue."

His voice was firm and heavy with admonition. It was her boss, and she immediately obeyed. Renji rolled his eyes. _'So the woman could actually stop blabbering,'_ he thought silently as he watched her slowly and dutifully retreat to the side of her superior. She promptly sat on the arm of the armchair her boss was sitting on, shifting closer to his side until her chest was only inches away from the side of his face. She sat cross-legged, showing off her creamy thigh (this Renji was not sure whether was done intentionally). Renji secretly marvelled at her smooth skin, but said nothing. Matsumoto caught his eyes, and winked.

"Abarai-kun, we came here strictly for business purposes, you know," she said suddenly. She was almost purring like a feline. Renji could feel his face grow hot. She raised her eyebrow, practically amused. Who'd thought he'd have his cheeks smeared with crimson with petty remarks?

"Just joking, silly," she continued, her voice dangerously seducing, and she winked again at him. Renji said nothing, but he quickly turned away. His face was beet red.

The male sitting at the armchair feigned a cough. He cast a disapproving look at his secretary with his emerald eyes, (who happily ignored him as she stared at a reddening male) glanced at his branded watch and cast a questioning look at Renji.

"Abarai, your architect is seven minutes late," he stated matter-of-factly without a hint of humour in his voice. Renji immediately turned to look at him, brown orbs versus emerald irises. He could see that this Shorty placed punctuality at a high level, as Hitsugaya kept glancing at his watch. Renji could be as clueless as the person next in line, but he knew they were going to screw this up if he didn't do anything fast. He imagined having to report a failure to _his _superior and shivered involuntarily. He forced his brain to think of a cover-up to buy some more time.

Anything really, in order to save his own ass. Ichigo's can burn and rot in Hell for all he cared.

"Toushirou-san," Renji began. "Please wait just a little longer. He will be here any minute now," he finished as courteously as he could, at the same time offering an apologetic smile. Hitsugaya looked at him doubtfully, but agreed to wait a little longer. He was not a fan of the one waiting for someone.

As soon as he finished speaking, heavy footsteps echoed through the first room at the front. The sound of the door being closed was heard next, followed by hurrying footsteps against the marble floor. The sound grew louder, and then it stopped just outside the door to the meeting room. Renji cleared his throat in anticipation, silently hoping to God that it was Ichigo.

And as if God was answering his prayer, it was. The orange-haired male emerged into the room where the trio sat, and was instantly welcomed by Renji's accusing look and a couple of expectant stares from the company's guests. Ichigo ignored the pineapple and turned to face the two visitors instead.

"I apologize for being late. I had to settle a few things earlier today," Ichigo said truthfully, and he gave an apologetic bow at them. Matsumoto eyed him closely. His current profile didn't seem to match the rumours she had heard about him being an arrogant bastard.

"It is fine," answered Hitsugaya, and he motioned him to sit down.

"Before that, let me introduce myself-" Ichigo started, but Hitsugaya put up his hand and shook his head. He gave him a smile that told him he already knew who he was. Ichigo blinked his surprise, but complied. He took a seat next to a bewildered Renji on the leather couch. None of them spoke.

"It is a pleasure to finally meeting you, Kurosaki Ichigo," started the short male visitor suddenly, breaking the momentary silence. He leaned forward in his seat. Matsumoto stood loyally next to him.

"And not forgetting Abarai Renji, to meet you is also a pleasure of mine," he added.

Ichigo and Renji both exchanged wondering glances, but both remained quiet. They simply waited for what was to come next.

"Anyway, I will again introduce myself because Kurosaki-san was late," Hitsugaya said solemnly, but without contempt for the latecomer.

"My name is Hitsugaya Toushirou, and I come as a representative of the Hyourinmaru Legacy Corporation," a momentary pause. He glanced at his secretary. Matsumoto smiled and gave a courteous bow at the two sitting gentlemen.

"And this, this is my secretary. Her name is Rangiku Matsumoto. She's the best around."

Ichigo and Renji looked at her, and nodded in unison. As she bowed, her cleavage came generously into view. Renji's eyes widened, definitely agreeing that the woman standing before them _is_ most definitely the best around, but Ichigo poked him sharply in the ribs; making him retreat his ogling eyes. Matsumoto noticed this peculiar exchange, and giggled softly. Hitsugaya raised one eye brow knowingly. Unbeknownst to the two males, the situation occurred often, and almost each one was in the same fashion, except that all the previous ones lacked a guy with a reflex such as Ichigo's.

"P-pardon me," Renji stuttered as he rubbed his recently-poked side that was aching. He glared at Ichigo, but Ichigo didn't see it. He was too busy paying attention at the two figures before them.

"It's really fine, Abarai-kun," Matsumoto piped up, again winking at him as she gave him that smile. Renji only sighed. She was clearly making fun of him.

"And that's that," Hitsugaya announced. He feigned a cough, trying to drive the current situation back to his original point. He put up one hand, and without turning to her, demanded for the company's file that they had brought along earlier.

There would be enough fan service for today.

"Matsumoto, I would like to have the proposal."

"Yes, here it is," the busty woman replied quickly, returning to the side of the armchair with a thick file in her hands. Renji noticed that her fingernails were polished and beautifully manicured. She handed the file over to her boss carefully.

"This file contains our proposal to your company," Hitsugaya told them, at the same time placing the file on top of the low table made of expensive mahogany. He made an effort not to bump the fine China set.

"First of all, what kind of business do you wish to have with us?" Renji inquired. The usual I-dunno-anything look he's been sporting since the start of the meeting had all but disappeared, a solemn one now in its place. Neither he nor Ichigo made a move to touch the proposal. Instead it lay quietly on the table, untouched.

"Why don't you see it for yourself? There's the proposal right there in front of you."

Renji shook his head.

"Unless we're really interested, there's no need for us to look through the whole proposal," he answered coolly. Hitsugaya looked at him in the eyes.

"I like your straightforwardness, CEO Abarai," remarked Hitsugaya as he leaned backwards.

Renji said nothing in reply.

"I shall let my secretary explain and make things brief."

"Thank you very much."

Hitsugaya glanced at Matsumoto. She nodded her head. She stepped forward, and started to speak.

"Hyourinmaru Legacy Corporation, or HLC for short, is interested in building a theme park."

At the moment only the sound of the running air-conditioner could be heard.

"A theme park?" Ichigo repeated, slowly, rather sceptical. He pronounced it so that every syllable was enunciated clearly. The signature scowl of his was painted all over his face.

"Yes, you heard that right, Kurosaki-kun. HLC is interested in building a theme park," she let her voice become slightly louder at the word 'theme park' to make her point. "This theme park will be international. We aim to make it absolutely big. The promotions team will handle that matter, so there's no need to worry about that."

It didn't matter to Ichigo if it was to be super big or medium or susceptibly small, what he's interested in was the reason behind this shared project proposed by the HLC. Why did they choose Bleach Corps? Also, why another theme park when Japan has already had plenty?

"Now what we're looking for is a creative architect. That's when you come into the picture," Matsumoto added, pointing at Ichigo in the face for added emphasize. She waited for the young architect to say something, but he didn't.

"Don't you have any questions to ask, Kurosaki-kun?" she inquired. Ichigo shook his head. She stared at him with a disapproving look painted on her oval-shaped face.

"Unless you don't plan to elaborate further . . ." he mumbled.

"I don't plan not to," answered the curvy female quickly, almost a little too cheerfully.

"This project is still under consideration, to be completely frank. Yes, we've prepared the necessary proposal to get this project going, but unless Bleach Corps agree to this, it will remain an idea. Obviously," Matsumoto concluded.

She said nothing more, and Ichigo took this chance to speak. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Minus the part of a creative architect, why do a big company such as HLC will be interested to hold a cooperative project with us Bleach Corps? We are not yet a super multinational company like HLC, and I'm sure all of us know of this."

"Precisely. We're just a middle-ranking company trying to survive and perhaps make it big someday," Renji chimed in (he's still the CEO after all). It intrigued him that a relatively small company as Bleach Corps should attract a nationwide company's attention such as the HLC.

Hitsugaya sighed and grinned. He leaned forward once again, but this time his hands rested on the cap of his knees.

"That is precisely why we want to hold a cooperative project with Bleach Corps. Since it is still a growing company, nobody really gives a hoot," he answered coolly. Ichigo and Renji openly stared at him.

"Please, don't be offended, Kurosaki-kun, Abarai-kun," Matsumoto said quickly and reassuringly. "What he actually means is that he likes it that your company haven't been sniffed off by the pesky noses of the media."

"Indeed. It's only natural that people don't go around sniffing at the small-shots. That also goes without saying that the refined jewels that Bleach Corps has are still undiscovered," he continued. Both Renji and Ichigo exchanged confused looks.

"You are a wonderful CEO, Abarai, and I am sure this is not the first time you're told about it."

Renji remained quiet. He couldn't quite rule out the truth behind that claim, although he'd been told that often enough by other higher senior workers he'd gotten close with. When Hitsugaya saw that Renji was contemplating, he turned his attention to the only scowling male in the office.

"And you," Hitsugaya continued, "You are a talented architect, Kurosaki, and I trust that you yourself know that well."

Ichigo looked at him suspiciously.

"We know you love building things, so what the HLC is doing is simply offering you a chance to enjoy doing what you enjoy doing most."

Ichigo kept quiet. It was true that he was known as one of the best architects out there; after all that could only be true since he had diligently and tactfully climbed up the hierarchy. He let out a long breath slowly. He could easily see where Hitsugaya was coming from. It was one of his personal reasons for staying at the Bleach Corps, despite the numerous job offers from various A-level companies that he'd received. It was all thanks to the big-shots hogging the entire spotlight that he was able to lead a good life with a rather hefty salary, and still stroll easily in the public.

"So, how about it, Renji?" asked Hitsugaya, shifting his attention to the red-haired CEO as he saw Ichigo deep in thought.

Renji glanced at the proposal lying idly on the table, then at Ichigo, before swiftly turning his gaze at Hitsugaya. It was a good chance for the company. Being able to work together with such a big-shot would be great for the company's overall reputation, not to mention that it would also provide to be a benefitting experience avenue for the fairly young organization.

"It's a go if the architect says so."

The company was founded by the three of them, together, although Ichigo had refused to have his name listed as one of its founder in the company's official registry. Still, there was obviously no way that Renji would go accepting a project before getting an agreement from the carrot-top.

"Kurosaki?"

Ichigo instantaneously drew a sharp breath.

"Fine," he paused. If the HLC wanted to construct a theme park (another stupid one) that badly, and aims to make it huge, he would just want to know the particulars. There were already plenty of theme parks around the country, and anything ordinary for a concept would simply not cut it. Ichigo tilted his face upwards, amber orbs looking directly into emerald eyes. If it was something stupid and not substantial enough, he was going to drop the project.

"What will this theme park of yours feature especially?" 

Ichigo knew that it wasn't recognition that he sought after all; when he made up his mind to take up architecture as opposed to the field of medicine as many people have predicted. A good lot of people were shocked at his decision, but his family was supportive enough. His insane father was _extremely_ supportive, which came across as something completely natural and not surprising coming from him.

"_Son, it doesn't matter what field you choose. Because papa will always be behind you!" and Ichigo gave his old man one of his many two-foot kicks in the face for talking in a strange way. _

Ichigo didn't exactly know when it started, but he was soon caught up in sketching random blueprints of various buildings, a mechanical pencil always ready and raring to go between his fingers. Some were plain and boring as hell, while others are more inspirational and futuristic. So far, his creations were celebrated, but none came without the blazing critiques. He welcomed it all, because he was in love with all of his creations. 

Still, one dream remained.

"I thought you wouldn't ask," Hitsugaya answered, pausing momentarily before continuing. "The central theme is Chappy the Bunny. Do you know of that popular television series?" and all the rest of Hitsugaya's words fell on deaf ears. His heart skipped a beat, and he almost could not believe his ears. 

"_Oi, Ichigo. Have you already sent your university application form? The due date is in another two days, you know," Renji said idly, as he sat on one of the wooden chairs in the library. Ichigo was sitting across of him._

"_Idiot, are you even listening to me?" Renji hissed, careful not to let his voice get too loud. _

_Ichigo scowled his famous scowl._

"_Yeah, I heard you. I already sent the form a couple days ago."_

"_What was it that you applied for? Gynaecology?"_

"_Don't be an idiot. I won't apply for that, geez." It was not his field of interest._

"_Then what?"_

"_Architecture."_

_There was a look of disbelief in Renji's eyes.__  
_

…

"_But it was her dream," Ichigo started suddenly, after a few moments of silence. Renji didn't turn to look at him, but his ears were alert and he listened._

It was her silly little dream, but he had made it his (current) biggest life goal, and of course he made sure to make it not known. She had no idea.

"_It was her dream. She wanted to play in a big, big theme park. She wanted to take many happy pictures, to ride the Ferris wheel, to ride the biggest roller-coaster ever."_

He could almost grin as he turned to look at Renji who was next to him. He was going to make it so this would become the eighth wonder of the world.

"_She told me all about these things, about her dreams."_

Renji only smiled. He understood completely. He was the only one who knew about it.

"_Never mind that we're no longer together." _

His friend's biggest life goal that originated from his ex-girlfriend's little dream.

"_If there's one thing I can do for her, Renji, it's that."_

Who would ever think that the holy mission would ever come knocking on his door by itself? And that the messenger would be so damn short?

"_It's that one thing. I'm going to build that theme park she always dreamt of."_

Ichigo thought that if all of this was true, then he _must_ have not risen from the wrong side of the bed today.

_Renji looked at him. Those amber eyes were vibrant, once again._

Even a whole mountain of skin-tingling and hair-standing Chappies will not stand in his way.

"_It's going to be full of those stupid Chappies, but Hell, I don't care."_

Everything was worth it if it was for Kuchiki Rukia.

* * *

**Author's thanks: **Thank you guys for giving my story a chance! I deeply appreciate it. I really didn't expect such kind words. I know I write *very* long chapters, but I just enjoy describing things. (though I probably could have overdone it) In which case please don't be afraid to inform me!

This might be weaker than the first one though.

Again, I welcome any tips, pointers, suggestions and of course, review!


	3. The Magazine, a Prelude?

**Dislaimer:** Usual stuff, Bleach is not mine. The drama here, is.

**Summary:** Rukia finds a new (soon-to-become?) favourite publication for reading.

**Author's notes: **I apologize for the long, long delay. I had a terrible writer's block, and university matters comes first, so yeah. _Italics_ NOT aligned in the middle depicts character thoughts**.**

**Warning:** Possible OOC-ness. I am not used to writing a certain brunette, so beware.**  
**

**Chapter Three: The Magazine, a Prelude**

She had never been one to really settle down. She was always on the move, always doing something, because she really doesn't sit well with the idea of being aimlessly idle. Even when she was still in school, Kuchiki Rukia had always had plenty of activities to do. She would generously volunteer her time with the elders back at the elders' homes, paying them a visit every now and then; and she would always produce a big basket of fresh fruits as a gift.

At other times, she would offer to read stories to the bedridden at the local hospitals, her voice changing constantly to the script; perfectly acting out all the plays with her animate moves. She enjoyed giving the needy a helping hand, because she believed that everything that goes around would eventually come around.

Of course, through all the course of her kind deeds, she had never performed them alone. It was because a certain orange-headed boy had always accompanied (more like insisted to) her on each of her visits, the basket of fruits being his routine luggage as he followed her. Yes, she definitely had missed those good old times. Rukia also vividly remembered that it was because of the ridiculous difference in height between the two of them, that they became so recognizable by both the elders' home caretakers and hospital workers. Those were the days when the so-called Dynamic Duo triumphed together.

Presently, Rukia blinked and focused her bright, vibrant violet-coloured orbs at an electronic device planted on top of an exquisite tripod stand in front of her, her pink lips forming a genuine smile as she did. She positioned her slender and petite frame so that more of her right side would be frontally-exposed to the camera, expertly manoeuvring her right shoulder to slant towards her perfectly pointed chin.

Her right hand rested on her right lap, the elbow of her arm pointed out to the front, her right leg slightly raised as only the toes of her feet supported her weight. Her left hand rested on the back of her narrow waist, and she kept her left leg straight behind her. She poised her upper body to hunch forward slightly, and she let her lips part only a tiny bit, giving a rather flirty and sensual look for the camera. Her cleavage gave a desperate peek as the v-neck of the yellow summer dress hung dangerously low past her collarbone.

A bright, blinding light then washed over her only milliseconds later, and consequently two more shots of the same pose was taken. She eased on her pose as the tall, slender photographer with pale hair manning the camera gave her the "o.k." sign. Rukia took a long breath. That would be the last take of the photo shoot for today.

.

[]

.

"Are you sure you'll be alright, Miss? Need any help finding your friend here?" asked the taxi driver of a slightly worn cab, as he leaned over to the open window on the driver's side with a scratched elbow pointed out.

His face was rectangular-shaped, with sharp, high cheekbones to further accentuate his undistinguished countenance. His thinning but black-coloured hair was pulled neatly to the back, allowing deepening wrinkles to show on his naked forehead. A set of dark, thin moustache above either side of his thin upper lip completed his modest features. He hardly look friendly, to tell the truth, but he's even further from intimidating. With such tiny eyes, even little school children will be unfazed in the event of his anger, and that in itself was an extremely rare occurrence.

His employee tag hung from the head of the rear view mirror, hardly a classy accessory, but he preferred to keep it that way. Black, bold-cased letters gave away brief information of him, if anybody bothered to read, that is:

**Employee name:** Aramaki Makizo

**Age:** Undisclosed (might be 43)

**Service years:** Six years (and counting)

**Service record:** Average

The long-haired woman shook her head but smiled appreciatively at the driver's kind and helpful offer, saying that she will be able to manage on her own from here. After all, she was not exactly that foreign to this metallic-painted building, she'd paid several visits from before.

"Okay, please be careful then," the driver said finally, as he waved his passenger goodbye. The taxi's old engine revved to life again, and he nodded his head at the young woman and slowly drove away, the engine of the transport choking on its soot-coloured smoke. He cast wary glances at the rear view mirror, eyeing the female passenger's form until the warm colour of her long auburn hair can no longer be witnessed by his eyes.

The woman was an odd one, although she was nothing close to a psycho or anything of the sort. Makizo sighed and shook his head. He hoped the bubbly soul he's given a ride to will be able to settle matters of her own, despite the obvious and rather worrisome silliness she previously displayed.

The female waited by the roadside, watching the retreating back of the old cab as it gradually disappear from her view. The driver had meant well, despite his seemingly aloof approach. Taking a deep breath, she shifted her focus to the looming building ahead of her. This part of the capital was less dense, she noticed, as the structure in front of her stood mightily on its own, the body separated from the other business-based office blocks that were also residents of the territory.

Blinking her hazel eyes a few times, it finally dawned to her that the neighbouring office blocks were unable to be "glued" to the structure due to its structurally inimitable structure: it was a three-floored modern building with tinted windows (that was fine) coupled with an exaggerated gateway of a pair of gold-painted human hands holding up a signboard of "Shiba Productions" proudly.

.

[]

.

A pair of off-white four inch wedges sat quietly at the foot of her designated chair, short legs occasionally swung to and fro. Her feet felt like they were hers again, her small baby pink toes finally free to wriggle in their bareness. She chanced a glance at her footwear for the shoot earlier.

"_Pretty ladies shoes, but I like my slip-on shoes better. They're more comfortable,"_ she reflected, her cherry lips slightly pouting at the thought. She decided to shop for more slip-ons the next time she goes out for shopping, and less wedges, or heels in general as she doesn't quite use them as religiously. Still, for a while she contemplated on the idea, for Kaien had noted on more than several occasions that she looked lovely in wedges. Before she could even finish mulling over her initial resolution, a strangely familiar voice blew up in her ears.

"Kuchiki Rukia-chaaan!" The voice sounded cheerful and impossibly bubbly, and Rukia could already tell, without a mistake, the owner of such vibrant voice.

Whirling around, Rukia was greeted by a friendly, round-shaped face wearing a radiant smile, her cheeks a light shade of pink. Auburn-coloured tresses hung freely past voluptuous breasts, and just above her ears are a pair of golden hairclips in the shape of flowers. The five feet two inches figure wore a modest, bright yellow wool sweater over a cream-coloured, buttoned pink and red flower-printed dress that hung well past her knees. She also wore a pair of light brown sandals to match the colour of her eyes.

"Orihime!" exclaimed Rukia eagerly, her face painted with obvious delight at the sight of her friend. Orihime nodded lightly and waved her hand excitedly, her lips now adorned by a wider smile. Rukia immediately scrambled to her feet, still very much bare-footed, and gave her visitor a big hug; her frail arms wrapped around Orihime's waist. Orihime returned the hug, gently squeezing Rukia's petite form as she did.

Pulling away, Rukia's tiny hands reached for either side of Orihime's face, involuntarily guiding the taller woman's eyes to be almost level with her own.

"You didn't tell me that you were returning to Japan."

Brown eyes blinked, once, twice.

"I did tell you earlier," Orihime replied quickly, bringing up her hands to hold Rukia's. She was sure that she did, but the stoic expression the woman in front of her was wearing told a different story. ". . . or didn't I?" Her own respond sounded more like an unsure statement, even to herself.

Rukia stared at innocent hazel eyes for a brief second, and then shook her head. "You didn't, or else I could have waited for you at the airport," she answered plainly. It was not a statement justified to blame her, Orihime knew, but she also recognized the slight hint of disappointment in Rukia's voice that was either not carefully masked, or wasn't even meant to be concealed in the first place.

"I'm sorry, I must've forgotten," Orihime started, after a few moments of silence. Rukia sighed, but gave her a smile. "I think I should probably write it down in my notebook next time."

"Don't be silly. You don't need notebooks for that sort of thing, Orihime," Rukia replied, easing her touch before finally walking to her station from earlier. Orihime nodded her head and followed suit, casting wondering looks at a bunch of metallic equipments and dull, gray wire cords sprawled all across the cement floor.

"Now, what do you want to do? Seeing that you're finally back here," started Rukia cheerfully, as she skimmed through some newsletters and magazines that were taking up a reasonable amount of space on her dresser table. She picked up a magazine on health and raised her eyebrows. Rukia was almost positive that she didn't request for any reading materials from the production unit that day, as opposed to what should be her normal routine (reading during breaks). Shrugging, she glanced at her friend.

"By the way, Orihime, take a seat," she offered, pointing to a vacant chair that was nearby. Orihime dutifully took the empty chair and promptly sat herself.

"Well . . . why don't we go shopping? I haven't done that with you in ages," answered the brunette after a short while, her index finger gently tapping on her chin, trying to recall the last time that they went shopping together. Rukia glanced at her, studying the arch of her brows that was drawn closely together. She knew instantly that Orihime was already halfway into one of her daydream trance.

"_She's always like this."_

Rukia sighed but smiled, and proceeded to clear her table of the foreign items. She was just about to turn away (she'd stacked the reading materials together and placed them on another table) when a magazine caught her eye: _Architectural Lens_. Rukia instinctively reached for the publication, her heart beating a little too fast than usual. Such a publication was not exactly her cup of tea, but the bold, printed words had successfully sought her attention: _"The Orange Architect: Kurosaki Ichigo"_ and then, the infamous scowl on a handsome face with intense amber orbs.

The Strawberry had a cover page.

"Rukia-chan? Are you okay?" It was Orihime, back into the present from her trance.

Rukia's breath hitched, her short fingers voluntarily clutching at the magazine. She nodded her head quickly in Orihime's direction. Orihime's complexion carried a concerned look.

"I'm fine," replied Rukia, slipping into her footwear. She swung her earthly tote bag to one shoulder, and grabbed Orihime by the arm, leading her outside.

"Where are we going?"

"We're taking you to the mall for a splurge, how's that sound?"

Orihime's eyes twinkled. Rukia understood.

She took her car keys out and slipped the magazine into her bag secretly, mentally reminding herself to give the lens a good, thorough read once she gets back home.

* * *

**Author's thanks:** Thank you people for reading my story again! Any mistakes, errors, questions, or suggestions, just forward them to me, kay? Thanks for your time! Also, I'm trying some new adjusting/scenebreaks style, so please bear with me. ^^;


	4. Their Lives, Now

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Bleach.

**Summary:** Their lives. He's haunted by his past; she's made peace with hers.

**Author's notes:** I'm sorry for the long delay, but I guess you guys pretty much get the gist, right? ^^;

**Warning:** HEAVY fleeting moments of nostalgia. Beware.

**Chapter Four: Their Lives, Now**

Aqua green eyes fluttered open slowly, blinking a few times, trying to adjust to the dimly lit surroundings. Instinctively, he turned his head to his left, and the first sight that entered his retinas was the sight of long, tousled dark raven hair splayed over complete whiteness of the sheets. It was her, his beloved. The small figure enveloped by the white bedspread was quiet, with only the soundless, steady breathing of her heart the only movement provided.

He took a deep breath, careful not to make even the smallest noise as he inched closer towards the small resting form of his fiancée, gliding skillfully underneath the coverlets. He did not wish to wake her up, because he loved the even tempo of her breathing while she was asleep. Very carefully, he positioned his frame so that it will remain out of her line of sight, one strong arm set down to support his upper body from crushing the petite woman in front of him. When he felt that his position was right and comfortable, he peered over to watch her sleeping face.

What he saw momentarily stopped his breathing; deep, intense violets stared right into his cooling aqua greens, watchful of his every move. A knowing smile danced on her cherry lips, he found his air again. She was already awake.

"What were you doing?" she asked; her voice hushed, but still audible. It was laced both with fleeting curiosity and placid sleepiness, the fatigue from her demanding work hours, and their previous lovemaking sessions still very much evident. It was Kaien's turn to smile, but impishly. "Nothing," was all that he said, his voice but a tender whisper.

"Nothing?" she questioned again, still in a hushed manner; but this time the sentence sounded even less like a question. To this, Kaien said nothing in reply, but let his big, warm hands reach for her tiny frame. He grasped her exposed shoulders gently, moving her so she would now lie facing him. He wanted to see those enchanting orbs in its fullness, so that he could drown in the intensity of them and hope to never be saved.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his large hands tracing the contours of her lovely face, leaving ghostly touches on her porcelain skin. She closed her eyes, shivering slightly at his ministrations, relishing in the contact of his warmth against her icy skin. She felt Kaien caressing her cheeks, his thumb and index finger occasionally twiddling the lobe of her ears.

"Rukia," he was murmuring again. Rukia didn't open her eyes; instead there was a smile on her face as she let herself concentrate in Kaien's movements on her. Kaien looked at her, a sly smile playing across his lips. Cupping both her cheeks, he tilted her face upwards. Their lips met at the softest of touches, barely brushing. They kissed for a little while, their lips seeking out one another in a slow, passionate dance. Rukia's thin arms involuntarily snaked to the back of Kaien's neck, her fingers now helplessly lost in locks of wild, spiky raven hair.

"I love you," he whispered to her ear, once their mouth was no longer on each other's. Rukia stared at him, her purple irises boring deep into the ends of his aqua green pools. He was so gorgeous. She shifted her body a little, and planted a chaste kiss on Kaien's lips. Her tiny hands found his angular jaw, the index barely brushing his lower lip.

"I know," she answered finally, as Kaien just watched her. "I love you too."

.

[]

.

His sun-kissed orange locks waltzed noiselessly, following a soundless rhythm, as the first morning breeze of the day brushed against his bare skin through the wide open window. It was only seven on a Saturday morning, and yet Ichigo was already up, freshly awaken from his slumber. The spacious balcony of his condominium unit provided an amazing view of the world beneath him – he could see the whole span of the city he lived in, and even make out some of the early birds that were already up and about. Some were walking their dogs, while others were out to buy breakfast. Ichigo retracted his gaze from the city streets, and guided his eyes to the faraway distance, staring at the sky and hovering clouds that decorated the Heavens.

He wondered briefly what Rukia would be doing at the moment; picturing her cute little pout on her beautiful face when he told her _specifically_ not to get onto his bed, and how his pajama top had looked like it would consume her whole as she insisted to invade his bed anyway (with him only in his pajama bottoms too). It was not long until the image of a certain spiky, raven-haired male suddenly intruded his imaginary apparition, replacing the picture of what was _his_ past with the now, the eyebrows of the raven-haired stranger drawn together in silent arrogance.

He shut his eyes instinctively, his mind trying its best to protect what was left of what used to be, while his heart hammered painfully away in his chest. Ichigo found himself clenching both of his fists unconsciously then, knuckles turned almost white. He heaved a heavy sigh, and shook his head slowly in resignation. Opening his eyes once again, he tore his gaze from the skies outside, making his way back to his unmade bed. A thin, silver-coloured electronic device lay against his cylinder-shaped bedside table, barely catching his attention.

Ichigo sauntered across the carpeted floor, one hand stretching out lazily to reach the device. There was the shape of a letter, with the digit two flashing next to the image on the screen. One was from Yuzu, his youngest sister, asking about whether he'd come over to the family home (their old house, his sisters and the moron with goatee still lives there) today for the usual, weekly family grocery shopping.

Ichigo scowled, but quickly typed a short message informing Yuzu that he would definitely come over so that neither of them would have to put up with their old man's antics. Ichigo sighed. He knew Yuzu won't mind, though she might start to flood his inbox and mails with frequent reminders to remind him to have his upcoming weekend free . . . ah, blame it on her overly-maternal instinct.

As for Karin, well let's just say that she'll start with ruining _his_ life by creating multiple, obviously fake accounts under his name _again _in a dozen homosexual-based find-your-soul mate websites, which will also feature photo shopped photos of him wearing only a pair of orange-colored underpants with the caption, "I love womanly men."

Ichigo only discovered his tomboy sister's evil side when a gay guy who works as a clerk at the pet store where he used to temporarily work asked him out. Luckily, Rukia was there to save his at-the-moment extremely bewildered butt. A grin almost grew on his lips as he recalled how she had just waltzed in into the pet store not knowing how big a heroine she had been that day.

The other one came from Keigo, which was not entirely unexpected. He's kept up a steady line of texts to Ichigo, many of which were either too stupid or too crazy for Ichigo to really care about (doesn't the guy have even the slightest speck of a serious bone?). There are also the occasional, _so-called_ important relationship advices from 'Dr. K. Love' – as Keigo puts it. Ichigo absent-mindedly wondered where that weird name even came from, but stopped short at Keigo's text. It seemed as if Dr. K. Love has just bestowed upon him an important relationship tip.

"_Yoooo, Ichigoooo!"_ The guy sounded just like the Karakura High Keigo. To this, Ichigo scowled, the memories of the old days come to life in his head; the most vivid was their group lunches on top of the school roof every afternoon. It was them together: him, the other boys and one pocket-size midget whose respected seat was_ reserved_ to be right next to him.

He remembered everything: Keigo yapping away about how Rukia was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, Mizuiro casually adding to Keigo's depression about not having a girlfriend (and informing everyone about his series of outings with older women), Ishida quietly munching on his bento that he prepared by himself, Chad just being him and eating his food, and the warmth that radiated from Rukia who sat beside him.

.

.

_"Ichigo."_

_"What, midget? I'm trying to have my lunch."_

_"Help me open this."_

_Rukia held out her juice box to him, a seriously grave expression painted on her face. Ichigo scowled._

_"You seriously can't do this on your own, right?" Ichigo replied as he took the juice box away from her tiny hand. Rukia only rolled her eyes._

_"Can too. I'm just offering you to do a favor since you're always scowling," the midget answered casually._

_"Yeah, and then maybe freaking Buddha will reward me with a handsome smile," muttered Ichigo._

_"Maybe."  
_

_"Where's the straw?"_

_"I don't have it."_

_Ichigo stared at her. "What do you mean, 'you don't have it'? Did you lost it?"_

_"Maybe. Just open it up for me. I'm thirsty."_

_Ichigo snorted, and crossed his arms. _

_"Then you'll stay thirsty. I'm eating lunch, I do-ow!"_

_Rukia gave a malicious smile, satisfied with the punch she landed in his exposed side._

_"Fine fine, evil midget witch. I'll open it up for you."_

_"I thought so."  
_

_Ichigo scowled at this, but returned her juice box anyway.  
_

_"Here you go."  
_

_"Thank you, Ichigo."_

_She took a quick sip of the fruit juice, her lips curved into a grateful smile. Ichigo grinned in return.  
_

_"No problem, but don't you lose MY drinking straw now, midget."_

_._

_.  
_

The next few lines of the message zapped him back to the present, and he found his eyes blinking a few times just to make sure: _"Seen the new mag I mailed to you yet? There's Kuchiki in front of it. And don't throw away the mag this time, it was expensive! I BOUGHT IT FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE STUBBORN AND I'M A GO-"_

The bedroom door flew open in a flash (no, he can't _shunpo_). Ichigo's tall figure loomed over his mailbox seconds later; his upper body slightly hunched forward, hands eager to retrieve the big bulk that was his mail. He brought them all inside and laid them on top of the low table in the living room. There was a huge pile of old letters, all of which the envelopes have yellowed. Discarding those aside, Ichigo quickly fished for a transparent plastic case containing the magazine which was supposedly mailed by Keigo from Thailand to him.

The magazine was slightly thicker than the month's copy of _Architectural Lens, _the architectural-based publication that he was featured in_. _Ichigo felt a rush of excitement surging in his veins, as the rate of his heartbeat silently doubled. He turned the magazine over carefully, his fingers shaking slightly from the excitement. The Kuchiki, no, the Rukia he saw on the front cover almost stole his breath.

It was Rukia in a bright yellow dress; the silky material that was the cloth accentuated her extremely attractive form, sending a throbbing sensation throughout his body. Her dark hair was set loose; the single strand of lush ebony decorated the center of her forehead. She'd formed her perfectly-shaped lips into a lovely smile, and Ichigo noticed she'd also applied glossy lip balm which glitters to the contours of her luscious lips.

"_It's probably strawberry."_

The thought was abrupt_, _purely intuitive. He didn't know if he guessed right, but right now that didn't matter. What mattered was that she loved the flavor, and the fact that he remembered.

He remembered that he had bought one for her way back when they were still just high school students, with the miniscule paycheck he received from working part-time. It wasn't expensive, but he'd had it nicely wrapped in colored paper as a surprise birthday present. He had pretended that he'd forgotten all about her birthday, choosing to hang out with his other guy friends instead of celebrating her birthday with her; just the two of them, like they always did, every single year.

She had sulked when he purposely appeared to be ignorant about the very special date, even going as far as asking her 'what was the big deal with January 14th'. She'd stomped on his feet (with a force so powerful Ichigo was forced to walk _really _slowly when walking for three whole days) and had stormed out of his room without another word. He didn't went to see her at her house until later that day, knowing better than to disturb a Kuchiki turned fiendish. Even for midget-sized Rukia, she can still compare to a monster when she's angry. He'd found her laying quietly on top of her bed in her bedroom, surrounded by lots of soft toys from her childhood, all neatly lined up. Her tiny hands were clutching her favorite plush, Chappy the Bunny.

He boldly sat next to her on her bed, looking at her frozen face. She didn't budge at the additional, unwelcomed weight pressing her bed. Ichigo frowned. He didn't think she'd be this affected by his harmless little joke. At other times, she would have normally hit him on his head, telling him to get off off her bed. Trying to fish a response, Ichigo gently touched her hand.

.

.

_"What do you want, Kurosaki Ichigo?" thundered the petite resting form. Ichigo winced at her cold, unfriendly tone she had just used._

_"I didn't mean it to be like this, Rukia," replied Ichigo bluntly, seriously. Rukia didn't open her eyes, but opened her mouth to speak.  
_

_"It hurts, you know."  
_

_Ichigo felt a piercing pain at the back of his throat. His stomach felt sick as he fumbled for the right words to say.  
_

_"Wish me 'Happy Birthday', idiot," Rukia continued slowly, her voice dreary. She had finally opened her eyes._

_"And quick," she urged. Ichigo tried to speak out, but his voice refused to come out. Realizing this, Rukia let her small hand rest on his arm._

_Familiar warmth spread like fire across his skin. Ichigo stared at her.  
_

_". . . I'm sorry," his voice croaked finally._

_Rukia nodded, a half-smile plastered across her face. "And?"_

_"Happy birthday, Rukia. This is for you."_

_And the birthday girl smiled her widest.  
_

_._

_.  
_

For a moment his mind was in a blank state, but as he plopped himself on top of the couch his train of thoughts gradually returned to him.

"So she's an ad model now, eh?" he mumbled to the open space before him. He allowed himself a long breath, eyes still fixed to the cover page version of Rukia. Her smile was full of energy and her violet orbs shone brilliantly. Personally, Ichigo thought that she looked nothing less than breathtaking. Yeah, as if that isn't already _always_ the case for _him_ (not his fault that he finds her beauty otherworldly).

Rukia has always been able to punch him in the gut and plant solid kicks at his shins (which can be lethal, no joke), and more than anyone else Ichigo knows that she hates thick makeup; says it's unnatural and stuff – but look at her now. Who would've ever thought of a model Rukia having her own cover page? Shaking his head and slightly grinning, Ichigo stood on his feet. He needed to get ready for his activities today.

His sisters are waiting for him, and he certainly wouldn't want to get on Karin's bad side – not unless he can help it. Womanly men really aren't his cup of tea, after all.

* * *

**Author's thanks: **Thanks for reading people! I know, I take ages to post my next update, but my creativity takes quite some time to be shaped into meaningful, coherent sentences. XD


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